


As Equals

by MissLadyScribe



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Freedom, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of blood, Love, Oh my poor little shipper heart, Romance, S8 is going to kill me, lots of fluff, status
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 13:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLadyScribe/pseuds/MissLadyScribe
Summary: An AU in which Gendry and Arya left the Brotherhood Without Banners that last night and spent the next few years living together on the run. When Arya hears that Winterfell has been reclaimed by her brother Jon, Gendry and her travel North to take her home. A shortcut through a forest, however, turns into a miserable time that may just end favorably for both Gendry and Arya. It's not going to be easy for them to clear the air, but when has it ever been easy for these two?





	As Equals

**Author's Note:**

> So funny story, I actually don't watch Game of Thrones. Before you leave or ask why I'm even here, let me explain that I found Gendraya through a couple of Youtube videos and instantly fell in love with the couple. Following a ton of fanfiction, hours of watching videos and countless searches on the Game of Thrones wikia, I decided it was time to bend the knee and lend my keyboard to the cause. Yes it's unusual (I don't think I've ever been this excited for the final season of a show I don't even watch) but I hope I've done these characters justice. I would love to hear what you think in the comments!

Leaves crackle beneath their feet like logs in a fireplace, lighting up the pain in their tired feet. Here and there a twig will snap underneath a worn boot, echoing in the solitude of nowhere. A lone bird calls from above them, as if mocking their journey. And from a few paces behind him, he hears a deep sigh from Arya. 

“Gendry, do you even know where we’re going?”

He bites his tongue, willing the anger in his stomach to quiet. Is he allowed to murder a lady? There has been nothing but the forest for days. Which forest, Gendry can’t exactly say, but whatever bloody woods he and Arya have been walking through nonstop for the past week can go piss off. After weeks of traveling towards Arya’s home Winterfell, he thought that he could trust some local’s advice to head through this forest in order to shave time off of their journey, but of course it hasn’t worked out. What in this world ever works out for him? The only really good thing in his life has been living with Arya Stark, and now that her brother sits on the Northern throne, of course she wants to head back home. So now he is tired, cold and angry that he even needs to make this trip at all, not to mention they are completely lost due to his lack of a map. 

“You know, maybe if you would walk faster we would get where we need to be faster,” Gendry says. 

“Doesn’t matter how fast we’re going if we’re going nowhere, stupid,” she snaps back. 

“Well unless you can magically pull a map out of your arse, all we can do is keep moving forward.”

“So you admit that we’re lost, then?”

He grits his teeth and says nothing, letting his heavy footsteps and the forest leaves fill the silence. 

* * *

 

Based on his extremely rough guess from where the Sun has moved, it’s been more than a few hours of walking. The Sun stood high in the sky when they stopped for a few minutes to shove some bread down their throats, but now it hangs just over the horizon, golden light glaring through the seemingly endless tree trunks before them. There also seems to be clouds rolling in from every direction, threatening to soak them through once again. 

“Gendry, we need to find shelter for the night. The sun is already setting and I know that you see that rain storm rolling in, so we should set up camp,” Arya says loudly, more than a few paces behind him now and limping slightly. 

“We need to keep going for as long as we can because the sooner we can get through this forest, the better. I am absolutely sick of being here.”

“And you think I’m not? Of course we want to get through the forest- it was meant to be a shortcut to the next town on our way to Winterfell, but we’ve been here so long that I can’t even remember that town’s name! However, I also recognize that if we get caught out in the dark and the rain, we’re going to end up killing ourselves before we ever get there.” 

For a minute, there is no response to Arya’s logic and she thinks that she might have to knock some sense into that bullhead, but Gendry stops cold in his tracks. Jerkily, he pulls off the large knapsack containing their supplies and drops it on the ground. With sharp movements he begins to pull out their large rope and the cloth they use to make a tent, setting to work on making camp.

“You’re going to set up camp here?” Arya asks.

“Unless m’lady can see some cave or tavern that I can’t, yes I am,” Gendry says.

Arya splutters for a minute, and Gendry takes the opportunity to release his pent up anger.

“I’m sorry, are these accommodations not fit for a highborn such as yourself? Should I have fetched the featherbed for you? A few of our finest furs? Maybe I should have been born one of those Lords, so I could please her highness as she so des-”

“Shut up. Shut up you absolute raging aresehole. You know that’s not what I’m saying and you know that I have never cared about your rank. Not once. If you think I can’t handle the forest just as well as you, you’re even dumber than I thought you were. I am just as capable as any man.  So just shut up and finish making the damn tent,” Arya says, throwing down her own sack and stomping away. 

The speech should make him feel bad, but the fire in his veins only continues to simmer.

“Just where are you going, fair lady? The woods are dangerous for a maid such as yourself!” He taunts as she weaves between the trees out of sight.

She looks back, fury and pain in her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word as she turns to weave through the trees out of sight. 

* * *

 

He will never admit it to her, but as the rain leaks through the material of their tent and the wind whips at their skin, Gendry knows that Arya was right. Putting their tent out in the open did absolutely nothing to shield them from the storm around them. Now in the darkness there is nothing he can do to improve their situation. Beside him, Arya has curled up into a ball facing away from him, shivering from the cold. He’s still mad, but he’s not heartless and so with a deep sigh he rolls over and wraps his body around her to share heat. She doesn’t say anything, but she does stop shivering as much and slightly scooches deeper into the embrace. He will also never admit that his heart skips a beat, even with the rain rolling down his face and puddles sloshing inside his boots.

The next day goes much the same as the one before, both Arya and Gendry miserable from the conditions and longing to feel like people once more. She is quieter today, not saying anything of their lostness or her aching feet. He supposes he should be grateful for that fact but it instead feels like something is wrong- Arya doesn’t complain much at all, only when something is truly bothering her, so for her to quit without some type of resolution is… strange. He’s not sure if it has anything to do with what he said last night, but the two of them have always had little spats. They don’t mean anything. They’re just little arguments to let off steam. That wouldn’t change even if Arya is headed home to be a Princess, right? He is about to open his mouth to say something of that nature, when suddenly it catches his eye. Above the trees and in the dimming daylight of the sky, he can see a puff of smoke rising steadily in the air. He stops, tilting his head back to see how far it extends, calculating. Arya voices his thoughts aloud. 

“What are the chances that’s a tavern versus another camp of people?”

Gendry knows that they need to avoid as many people as possible on their journey home. Him and Arya could probably take on a few people should they be attacked, but stumbling upon a large group of bandits like the Brotherhood could mean serious trouble that they can’t handle. Shifting the weight of his bag, he takes a breath.

“I guess we’re going to have to find out very carefully.”

The two creep as quietly as possible towards the source of the smoke. As the tree line begins to thin and a clearing is visible up ahead, the two slip from tree to tree in order to remain out of sight. Peering slowly from around a trunk, Gendry spots a small house next to a wide road, billowing the smoke they spotted. Through the small but well-lit windows he can see many people inside and by the number of different horses, he makes the guess that-

“It’s a tavern,” Arya says, bent down by her tree. 

Both of them let out a sigh they didn’t quite realize they were holding, and Arya slowly returns to her standing position. The walk down to the front door and the exchange of money feels as if it takes forever, but finally Gendry shuts the door to their room and the fact they’ll be sleeping in an actual bed tonight sinks deep into their weary minds. It’s not a large room- just a bed, a fireplace and a washbasin, but it’s better than they’ve had for a long time. It’s practically one of the heavens. Taking off his bag and jerkin, he moves towards the small fire already lit and throws another log upon it, stoking the flames. Arya stands stock still in the center of the room, still dripping from the rain, staring at him and seeming smaller than she has in a while. 

“Are you alright, Arya? You can get ready for bed while I tend to the flames,” Gendry says quietly, watching shadows and firelight play on her face.

“Actually… actually, would you mind getting ready first? I’ll take care of the fire, “ she offers. 

“Are you sure? I’m already taking care of it and it’s not going to take me long- it’s really no trouble.”

She bites her lip, shaking her head.

“No, I really would like to do it. Great excuse to get close to it, and you can finally rest once you’re out of those wet clothes.”

He blinks a few times before handing the poker to her and pulling out the changing shield he spied next to the basin stand. He watches her stand over the flames for a minute before finally stepping behind the thin piece of wood to take care of himself. He wondered why she was acting so strangely around him. Usually Arya was as tough as nails, never submitting to any man and never taking their fights this badly. He now assumed this was about their fight, because they had been in worse situations than being somewhat lost in a forest where she hadn’t been this way. He’s japed at her ranking before, but perhaps he was too much this time? Mayhaps being this close to becoming royalty was changing her? He doubted that last statement, but a portion of his stomach rolled at the thought of her personality or mind changing due to some change in position. His Arya would always be the Arry he had met so long ago: stubborn, fierce, brave and true. 

Slipping on the only dry piece of clothing he had left- a set of smallclothes he had shoved in the bottom of his pack- he laid his wet clothes over the changing shield and decided to forgo the basin, as he had had enough water in the past few days. 

“It’s all yours,” Gendry said to the small woman in front of the now roaring fire. 

Although it could have been his imagination in the dimness of the room or her proximity to the fire, but as she turned to nod at him, he could have sworn he saw a blush across her cheeks. He also could have imagined the way her eyes darted across his broad shoulders and lean muscles. He climbed into their bed before he could truly tell, though. Arya scampered behind the changing screen, and it wasn’t long before he heard the spill of water into the basin and the pull of wet clothes off of a wet body. Closing his eyes, Gendry tried to think of things other than the woman on the other side of that modesty screen. Anything but the lady’s raven-colored hair or bright eyes; everything but her smooth creamy skin and what he knew under that shift had to be a well-shaped body. He prayed for her to be finished soon and come out, so he could see her clothed body and not be plagued with the temptations lurking in his mind, but she was taking a long time tonight. In fact, a bit too long to be normal. When he heard her breath catch a little, he sat up in bed. 

“You alright there?” He asked.

He could hear her breathing deeply from across the room and the sloshing of material in the basin, and he frowned.

“Just fine, thanks,” She said.

The words relayed one thing, but the way she said them through her teeth, gritting them out like sand, relayed something else. He slipped out of the bed, drawing close to her.

“Doesn’t sound like it, m’lady. Is there something wrong? Do you need help?”

“No! No, I’m fine, just give me another minute or so.” 

Gendry’s frown deepened, but he retreated to sit on the edge of the bed. Before long, he could hear the rustle of dry clothes and saw her sling her wet clothes over the wood beside his. To his surprise, he could also hear the lacings of her boots being tied and the pouring of water once more. Stepping out slowly from the shield, she carried the jar of water that filled the basin close to her chest. 

“I’m going to outside to dump this water and replace it with water from the well I saw outside,” Arya said in a soft voice. 

Dumbfounded, Gendry could only just shake his head in disbelief. 

“There is absolutely no way that you’re going downstairs through that crowd of rowdy men with only your shift on. Just leave the water here and we’ll replace it in the morning,” He said. 

“No, I’m only going to be a minute and I’ll be right back up before anyone even notices. And if they do notice, then tough. I can take care of myself,” Arya said defiantly, moving towards the door. 

“Like hell you are!” Gendry scoffed, moving into her path.

Sliding one hand over the top of the jar, Arya clenched her jaw and attempted to move around him. 

“Let me through. I’m quite capable of handling a jar by myself, and unless you want me to put those freezing wet clothes back on, a shift is what I’m wearing.”

“Give me the jar, Arya. It’s not proper for a lady to be seen by a bunch of strange men in her shift, let alone for her to be carrying jars back and forth for water.”

“Really, again with the titles? I am going downstairs and don’t you dare try and stop me!”

“I don’t need to try, m’lady,” Gendry snapped, yanking the jar from her hands. 

Upon obtaining the jar, Gendry looked down into the container and was shocked to the core of its contents. Inside the jar was blood- watery and diluted by the water from the basin- but blood nonetheless. 

“Are you happy now?” Arya snapped, retreating to the opposite of the room. 

The color drained from Gendry’s face, and thrown into action by his fear, he moved with lightning speed across the room, grabbing Arya by her arms and turning her around.

“Where are you hurt?” He demanded, running his hands across her body looking for wounds,” Why in the name of all the gods did you not tell me you were hurt? All this time I thought you were upset by our argument or something, and you’ve been injured? Bleeding? Gods, Arya, I thought you knew that even when we fight, it doesn’t mean anything!  Your safety, your well-being will always come first. Always.”

His large and desperate hands finally landed on her lower abdomen roughly, and upon her intake of breath and her sharp wince, he knew he had found the source. Reaching for the hem of her dress, he steeled himself for the worst. Before he could lift the dress above her knees, though, Arya caught his hands. Tears shone brightly in her eyes.

“Gendry, I am not wounded. I am not injured. I’m having my blood.”

The words ring in the silence of the room, and Gendry slowly but surely backs away from her. The tears do not stop, instead becoming large rolling droplets. Gendry knew that at her age of ten and six years that she must have flowered, but he had never seen any evidence and often tried to keep the thoughts far from his mind. 

“I didn’t want you to know- I never did. In your mind you’ve already got these ideas of status and this perfect image of a lady, so I never wanted you to know that I’ve flowered. Especially now that we’re headed to Winterfell and it’s gotten worse. Usually you don’t mention it and you treat me like the equal I’ve always wanted to be, but now you throw it in my face all the time. I can’t help how I was born anymore than you can. I can only try and be the person that I want to be. And I was hoping to make you see me, not just most of the time but all of it, as a person that just wants to live and not be put on a pedestal.”

She is sobbing now, stumbling over to the bed to hang onto the posts. She presses a hard hand to her lower abdomen.

“Now you know that I bleed just like every other woman, and as if that’s not embarrassing enough, you have the proof literally at hand! Already I thought I was giving it away with my complaining, but I have been in so much pain that I couldn’t help it. Pushing myself too hard during this time always makes it worse, and when we’re not eating or sleeping enough it’s the worst. The only thing that helps is warmth, which was in short supply as well. None of its your fault, by the way. I’m just saying things as they are. Just- just a stupid woman saying stupid things because of her monthly. Now, I would appreciate it if you would hand me that jar so I can fetch more water and finish cleaning myself. I haven’t really gotten the chance to do so in the past two days, and would like to retain some of my dignity, thank you.”

Gendry swallows hard. Approaching Arya as if she direwolf ready to attack, his heart breaks as she sinks onto the edge of the bed with a whimper. She clutches at her stomach in agony, both the war in her womb and her mind causing her sharp pain. Dropping to his knees before her, Gendry slowly wraps his arms around her hips and presses his face just above her hands. Slowly, Arya moves her hands to clutch at his shoulders. She matches her breathing to his deep, warm breaths and the tears reduce to an occasional stream. He has so much to say and yet has no idea where to start. All this information is so new. All of it is so obvious. All of it confuses the hell out of him. All of it points to the one direction he knows he must take. 

“Arya,” he breathes into her abdomen, gathering his courage.

He tilts his face up to see hers, knowing the tears flowing down his face match hers. 

“Arya, I want nothing more than for you to be my equal. I didn’t always know it- I’m really quite stupid, you know- but from the moment our paths crossed you’ve been showing me that you are as strong and brave and fierce as any person I know. Man or woman, you can hold your own. I am so sorry for making you feel ashamed of your sex. You needn’t hide anything like your blood from me any longer, though. Because while I celebrate your womanhood, you have to know that it will never take anything from you. You have always been a fighter and a survivor, flowered or not. And yes, perhaps I will want to shield you a bit more during this time but not because I consider myself more capable, but because I know that you are also protecting me. We protect each other. “

Her hands stroke through his short hair, sending fire through his mind and giving him the courage to carry on. 

“You’re also right about my thoughts on rank and status. For most of my life, the fact that I’m a bastard has been thrown in my face like shite. I saw anyone with a title as above me, as if their life was worth more than mine. Being with you changed that. Leaving the Brotherhood together, traveling Westeros together, forming a family together, it all made me feel as if we could truly be equals. I could forget for the most part, and just exist. When we learned of Winterfell, though, it was as if that life was shattered for me. We were headed to your home where you would resume your position as a Highborn, and I would fall back into the masses of unwashed baseborns, never again able to reach you. I put your position on a pedestal because that is where the world puts you. And in the back of my head,  I thought that if I could put you back up there in my mind, if I could push you away with reminders of who you are, then when the time came to leave you it would be easier. Or at the very least, not rip the very heart from my chest. Because you see, Arya, I love you. A bastard from Fleabottom is so in love with you, the wild wolf girl of House Stark, that he can’t handle the pain of being left out of her pack.”

With no warning, Arya suddenly leans down and captures Gendry’s lips. Pressing with ferverance known only to a starving man reaching for food, he entraps her right back. He steals her breath, letting their chapped lips and longing tongues battle for dominance in a fight that they both know will end in a draw. Following a few minutes of passion, the two slowly release each other but stay close together.    
“I love you too, Gendry. I have loved you since before I even really knew what love is, to be honest. You aren’t just some stupid natural born bastard, you are the only person who has ever fully known me and accepted me. The only foolish thought you’ve had is that I would let anyone separate us or that I would change. No one- not Jon, not Sansa, not Bran, not even the ghost of my father himself could tear us apart. I would love to see them try, but they won’t. Jon may not have always been around and he certainly didn’t know me as well as you do, but once we meet again I am certain that he will understand what it means to not be highborn and that I will do as I damn well please. King or not, he knows that my heart cannot be tamed for the pleasure of some Lord. It belongs to me alone, and I share it with only you,” Arya whispers.

Tears welling back up into his eyes, he pushes his face back into her abdomen and squeezes her tight around her hips once more. He intends to never let her go.

* * *

 

He does eventually let her go. When the fire in the room burns down to little more than embers and Arya’s pain returns with more force, the two wipe the tears from each other’s eyes and set to protecting each other as they’ve always done. Arya puts more wood on the fire and stokes the flames while Gendry runs outside to dump the bloodied water and bring up a fresh jar. Upon returning, he insists upon helping her clean the fresh blood and line her smallclothes with clean rags. She blushes in the firelight, but allows him to pull her into their bed and under the covers. While usually they would only huddle together on biting cold nights or in the most dangerous places, Gendry wraps himself around Arya’s small frame with one large, warm hand resting on her cramping stomach in order to provide some relief. They whisper into the darkness of their hopes and dreams, of the past and the future, and the paths they intend to forge together. They will arrive in Winterfell within the next fortnight, but that is the furthest thing from their minds. Let tomorrow bring what it will- Gendry and Arya will face it together head on as they always have and always will. 


End file.
